


Across the desk of Ilsa Herbert

by LulaIsAKitten



Series: Octavia Street musings [10]
Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 21:05:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15566391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LulaIsAKitten/pseuds/LulaIsAKitten
Summary: Present day. What’s that you say? We need some Nick and Ilsa smut? ;)





	Across the desk of Ilsa Herbert

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hobbeshalftail3469](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hobbeshalftail3469/gifts).



> I love these two <3

Final argument delivered, Ilsa Herbert returned to her table in the courtroom. She sat and took a few deep breaths. She’d done all she could, it was up to the jury now.

She sat upright, collected, nothing in her outward appearance to indicate that she was doing anything other than listening to the judge’s closing statement, but her busy brain was going over and over the angles. They’d not missed anything, she was sure of it, and she had delivered her summing up with practised confidence.

Finally she relaxed a little, glancing around, allowing her gaze to drift. She’d been utterly focused on the final witness, on the reactions of the jury, on keeping the defendant next to her calm. She’d barely been aware of anything else around her.

Her eyes wandered up to the viewing gallery, and to her surprise she spotted Nick sat there, a little behind the families of both sides of the case, his hazel eyes twinkling at her. Her eyebrows raised a little, but she gave no other outward reaction. She assumed he’d have rung if there was a problem. He’d occasionally come to watch her in court in their younger days, but he hadn’t done so for some years - his shifts and life in general taking over.

Finally the judge directed the jury to retire, and court was adjourned. In the foyer Ilsa shook hands with her client, who now had no option but to wait while the jury deliberated.

She glanced at her watch. There would be at least an hour’s break now, enough time to go back to the office and retrieve the lunch she’d forgotten to bring with her. She looked around for her husband, and spotted him near the entrance to the court, lounging against a pillar, waiting for her.

She walked briskly over to him and greeted him with a kiss on the cheek. “This is a nice surprise,” she said. “What brings you here?”

“Clinic finished early, for once,” Nick replied, “so I thought I’d come and check in on you. You’ve worked so hard on this case. All wrapped up?”

“Should be, unless the jury come back with any questions or clarifications,” she said. “Just have to wait now.” She looked around for her co-counsel.

“Jonathan,” she called. “I’m heading back to the office for a bit, you coming?” Her colleague nodded and moved towards them.

Ilsa glanced at Nick. “You joining us or heading off?” she asked. “I might have time to grab lunch near chambers if you fancy? But I brought sandwiches if you don’t.”

“I’ll tag along,” Nick said.

The three of them caught a taxi back to the law offices where Ilsa and her colleagues worked, a brick and glass edifice which looked modern from the outside but had a surprisingly old-fashioned interior.

“Call me if anything happens,” Ilsa said to Jonathan, and he nodded and headed in the direction of his office.

“Let me just stow all these files,” Ilsa told Nick, “and we can go and grab some lunch.”

He followed her brisk steps to her office, her heels clicking on the floor as they went. The offices were a hive of activity, but Ilsa had managed to bag an office a little set back from the hubbub, a cosy space she shared with one of her longest-standing colleagues, a fellow lawyer she’d met when they were both studying for the bar.

She unlocked the office and let them in.

“No Claire?” Nick asked, glancing across at the neat, unoccupied desk.

“She’s been off sick a couple of days,” Ilsa said, putting her armful of files on her desk.

Nick kicked the door shut behind them. “In that case,” he said, grabbing her from behind so that she squeaked, “I can steal a few minutes with my wife.” He kissed the back of her neck, his arms sliding around her waist.

“Nick...” Ilsa wriggled round to face him, giggling. “Save it till we get home.”

He ignored her, his lips moving around her neck as she turned in his arms, kissing the side of her neck and up to her jaw. “Since when did you get so _bossy_ in court?” he murmured, running his tongue across her skin and making his way to her ear.

She grinned. “You liked that, then?”

He grunted. “It was fucking hot,” he muttered, his lips still exploring.

Ilsa shivered, goosebumps sweeping across her skin in the wake of his attentions. “They were a tricky jury,” she managed. “I needed that last witness to cooperate fully.”

“I don’t think anyone would dare not,” he said, tugging on her earlobe gently with his teeth. Ilsa gasped. Nick’s hands were sliding up under her blouse at the back now, hot against her skin, pulling her body to his. “But,” he went on, “you weren’t that masterful last time I came to watch.”

She laughed, a little breathless as he kissed and sucked along her jawline. “You haven’t been for years,” she said. “I was still a junior lawyer last time.”

“More fool me,” he muttered, and kissed her fiercely, his tongue seeking hers, pressing her back against the edge of her desk.

Ilsa clung to him, kissing him back. How long had it been, she wondered. She hadn’t been to bed before midnight any night for weeks, and Nick was on a run of early shifts. They’d been ships passing in the night, except for the few evenings he’d sat and let her practise statements or lines of questioning on him. He’d known how important this case was, that was why he’d come to visit on the final day.

It’s been a while then, she thought, desire rising fiercely within her. She broke off the kiss, gasping for air.

“Nick...” she managed. “We’re in my office.”

“So lock the door,” he said, drawing back from her just a little so he could bring his hands round between them. She squeaked again as she realised he was trying to undo her blouse.

“We can’t do this here,” she hissed, taking hold of his hands, but he buried his face in her neck again and found that place below her ear that he knew crumbled her defences, sucking at it eagerly. She moaned, her hips pushing towards him automatically. He pressed back against her and she could feel his cock, rock hard against her already. Desire clenched low in her groin. Her hands clutched at the back of his neck.

“You’ve come straight from work...” she tried. Anything to dampen down what he was doing to her, the feeling of inevitability to it.

“Clinic day. I haven’t been anywhere near anything gross,” he said. He lifted her bottom up onto the desk and slid his hands down her thighs, pulling her skirt up so he could part her knees and press his body between them. His right hand slid down her thigh, sliding around to the back of her knee to seek the sensitive skin behind it, fingers stroking, and she was lost - as he’d known she would be.

“Okay, okay,” she gasped. “Lock the door.”

Nick left her sat on her desk, just long enough to drop the catch on the lock on the door, turning back to see her shrugging off her legal gown.

“What are you doing?” he murmured, crossing back to her in two strides. “The gown stays on.”

Ilsa giggled, but pulled it back up onto her shoulders. “Just don’t get any stains on it,” she said.

“I’m making no promises,” he growled, and bent to bury his head between her thighs.

Ilsa gasped and sank back onto her elbows on her desk, files scattering in all directions, as he bit gently at her inner thigh and ran sucking kisses up it, pushing her skirt up until his mouth was on her through her knickers. He sucked fiercely at her through the already damp cloth, and she moaned and writhed against him, pleasure storming through her.

“God, it’s been too long,” he said against her, and she hummed in agreement and then cried out softly as he nipped gently at her through her knickers with his teeth.

“Come here,” she begged, and he moved his mouth to hers, pressing her across the desk and kissing her. She lay back further and brought her arms up and around his back, fingers biting into him through his shirt. She kissed him fiercely.

Nick wrenched his mouth from hers and returned to her neck and then on down, following his fingers as he tugged the buttons of her blouse open. He ran kisses across her breast, pulling her bra aside with nimble fingers so he could draw her nipple into his mouth. He was pressing his groin to hers now, rocking against her, and she wrapped her legs around his backside, urging him closer. His erection strained against her, hard through his trousers, and he groaned with need.

There was a sharp knock on the door. Isla froze, but Nick ignored it. His tongue laved her nipple and his cock ground against her knickers. Ilsa clutched at him, trying to hold him still, and he raised his head to meet her gaze, his hazel eyes dark with desire.

He leaned over her and she shivered at the delicious feeling of dominance for a moment. His mouth found her ear. “Remember when we were eighteen and I used to come down to Cornwall,” he breathed, almost inaudible. He was still rocking against her, rubbing his cock against her though their clothes. “And we had to be so quiet all the time, in your bedroom at home?”

Ilsa remembered only too well. She nodded, closing her eyes, unable to bear the tension, the feeling of him rubbing against her, his breath hot in her ear. Every part of her ached for him. She turned her head, her mouth finding his neck, sucking at him and feeling him thrust against her in response.

“Fuck, Ils, I feel like I’m eighteen again,” he whispered.

Footsteps receded down the corridor. Ilsa sat up, pushing him away enough that she could reach his waist, wrestling with his belt and trousers. “Me too,” she said shakily, pulling him free and stroking the length of him, enjoying hearing him gasp, feeling him shudder as he’d made her.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” she muttered. He grinned at her and tugged her knickers down.

“Have you honestly never thought about it?” he said. “I have. Quite often.”

“What, you fucking me across my desk, among all my work files?” She said, primly, and then grinned back. “Maybe.”

“Time to make it a reality, then,” he said, and pushed her back down and thrust into her.

Ilsa cried out and sank back down onto the desk, pulling him with her. He thrust hard against her, his rhythm building, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer to kiss him, her hands clutching the back of his shirt. She clung to him as he moved against her, pleasure storming through her. Pressure and tension mounted as he pushed against her harder and harder.

“God, Ils, I’m close already,” Nick ground out, his movements becoming more frantic.

“Me too,” she gasped, her arms and legs trying to pull him closer, deeper. Her hands moved to his head and she pulled his mouth to hers, kissing him passionately, fierce with love for him, her husband, this man she knew almost as well as she knew herself.

“Fuck,” he grunted against her mouth, and she felt him fall apart in her arms, jerking against her, pulsing into her. Her own orgasm broke over her at the feel of him, tension shattering, her body curling up against him as she contracted around him and he grunted into her ear.

Gasping, Ilsa flopped back against her desk. Nick slumped against her, breathing hard. There was a minute of quiet, of slowing of breathing and gathering of wits.

Ilsa laughed softly, her arms around his back squeezing him closer. “Nicholas James Herbert,” she said, teasingly. “What was that all about?”

He raised his head from her shoulder, gazing lovingly down at her.

“I guess lawyering is sexier than I’d realised,” he said.

“Only the way I do it,” she replied.

He laughed and kissed her, his mouth sweet and gentle on hers now. “I don’t doubt it,” he murmured against her lips.

He withdrew from her gently, and they straightened their clothes. Ilsa looked around at the mess of files, some of which were on the floor, and found her knickers among them.

“I think you should come and watch me in court more often,” she said, grinning. “Now, how about that lunch?”

“Mm, good plan, I’m hungry now,” Nick replied.

She winked at him. “Can I take the gown off now?” she asked.

He laughed. “You may,” he said. He gave her a cheeky look. “Does it have to live here, or can you bring it home sometimes?”

It was Ilsa’s turn to laugh. “I’ll bring it home this weekend,” she promised, and kissed him.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Anyone spot the very oblique Ally McBeal reference? ;)


End file.
